wildest dreams
by mu-12
Summary: Sasori and Deidara reunite in the afterlife. SasoDei.


"So are we dead?"

Sasori shrugged. "Perhaps."

Deidara took his hand so they can continue exploring the world around them. Everything around them, including the ground beneath their feet, was white. Something about it unsettled Deidara. It was as if they were trapped in a blank space for eternity, but there was another part of him that wanted to see the beauty in everything, and so he decided to listen to that one instead. After all, as long as the man he was walking with stayed by his side - Deidara was certain that he would never get bored.

The stretch of nothingness slowly but surely transformed into a midnight blue sky. Deidara gaped in awe as little stars twinkled into existence upon the night sky and the ground beneath them suddenly felt soft, grainy. Sand. A crisp rush of wind blew past them, as if to welcome the two artists into this strange new dimension they've entered.

"Ooh." Deidara grinned at the cluster of stars above them which shone brightly like gems. "Where do you think we are?"

"Suna," Sasori said. "This is a memory."

"Yours?"

Sasori nodded.

Deidara did not have enough time to count the stars as, within a few seconds, a brilliant sunrise emerged from the horizon before them. Deidara raised a hand to shade his eyes as the light burst in bold, magnificent rays. In the blink of an eye, the sun was high and bright above them, and the sky had changed into a softer blue.

"Who's doing all of this?" Deidara blurted out.

"Me."

"You're controlling it?"

"Yes." Sasori closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the scene around them changed once more. Deidara turned to see that they were in their old workshop at the Akatsuki.

"Feels like home," Deidara said with a smile, recognizing little details of the place: the pile of clay structures in Deidara's corner of the workshop, Sasori's overly-organized desk. He could even smell the familiar scent of wood.

"I wish we could stay like this," Sasori said, walking towards one of the operating tables where an unfinished puppet lay. He caressed its wooden fingers with care.

"Can't we?" Deidara settled on the bed in the corner, where he and Sasori used to sleep together. Well, it was more of only Deidara sleeping as Sasori looked after him. "I wouldn't mind."

"I'm not the only one who controls this world. You're the one constantly changing the scenery; I merely choose the location."

"Why?"

"Because you have this blasted penchant for ephemerality. That's why it keeps changing."

Deidara's breath left him as wonder filled him. "This is… _our_ world?"

Sasori rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you're only figuring it out now."

Deidara gaped at him. And then he couldn't help but laugh. A world where he and Sasori could play god. It was inconceivable_, _something that couldn't happen unless—

"Sasori." The smile on Deidara's face fell. He rushed forward and gripped Sasori's arms tightly, fumbling, feeling for his touch. "Does this mean–are _you_ real? This isn't just a genjutsu—"

"I'm real." Sasori's hands settled on top of Deidara's shoulders, and their eyes met. In that moment, Deidara stilled. "I'm real, don't worry."

"How can I know for sure?" Deidara asked skeptically.

Sasori's hands gently slid to cup Deidara's face. It was an alarming gesture that Deidara had never, in a million years, ever thought Sasori was even capable of doing. Sasori looked at him earnestly, as if to say "trust me," and nodded once before closing his eyes. Deidara understood, albeit taken aback by the sudden softness, and also closed his eyes. He felt Sasori lean closer and—

Flicked Deidara on the forehead.

"Ow!" He had killed the mood completely!

"It hurt, right? But I'm still here," Sasori pointed out dryly.

Deidara glared at him petulantly. He briefly considered sulking off somewhere because goddamn it, Sasori was an insufferable asshole. Deidara assessed his next course of action, and against his better judgment, despite how temptingly satisfying it would be to punch Sasori's stupid wooden poker face - decided to wrap his arms firmly around Sasori in a tender embrace instead.

He heard Sasori make a sound of surprise as he did so; he also felt Sasori tense uncomfortably - _like a human_ \- and then it dawned on Deidara. Sasori was a human again. Deidara normally would've been overjoyed; he'd always wanted to see Sasori flush when he got embarrassed or angry or happy. He wanted to know what the real Sasori smelled like, aside from the perpetual scent of wood that reminded Deidara constantly his partner was a puppet. He wanted to know what Sasori tasted like, what he felt like, beneath all the poison and weaponry he'd so gladly exchanged his humanity for.

"It did hurt," Deidara admitted, his voice muffled by the fabric of Sasori's cloak. His chest suddenly tightened with a familiar sorrow; with it came a faint slice of memory. Dreams of Sasori after his death. Deidara could still remember it all.

"Which one hurt, brat?"

"Everything," Deidara said.

Sasori was silent. Deidara realized that Sasori hadn't hugged him back. Deidara felt silly; right, he wasn't supposed to be touching Sasori. Just as he was about to pull away, though, Sasori yanked him back into his arms, and this time, he felt the invitation of Sasori's warmth all too encompassing, too irresistible. Deidara hugged him back tentatively, and when he felt his eyes go wet, his grip became protective.

"I'm sorry," Sasori whispered.

Through the white-hot blur of his tears, Deidara noticed that Sasori smelled very much like a human. He didn't know how to describe it; all he knew was Sasori smelled real, felt _real._ Deidara decided that, in his world where everything lasted for only a moment, Sasori would be the only exception.

"It may have hurt, but I'm here now," Sasori repeated. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Then let's keep it that way."

Deidara felt Sasori smile. "Okay."


End file.
